


The Greatest Good

by CactuarTamer



Category: The Order of the Stick
Genre: M/M, Spoilers for SoD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 16:50:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5256014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CactuarTamer/pseuds/CactuarTamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of a soul-spliced Vaarsuvius' attack on Xykon and subsequent loss of the phylactery, Redcloak is shaken by the setback to The Plan and plagued by memories and guilt from his past. Ever his loyal Second, Jirix works with him diligently to undo the damage done, becoming more and more worried about his Supreme Leader as the days go by.  He becomes determined to put together the pieces of the story he's missing and find a way to help somehow. </p><p>Eventual spoilers for Start of Darkness, eventual Redcloak/Jirix. Most probably. Additional tags will be added as necessary. Might change the title later. ...If that's even possible. Will definitely change this summary later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Greatest Good

Jirix gasped quietly, color and sensation slowly bleeding back into his awareness. The hall of the Dark One was fading rapidly in his mind, the indescribable brightness of it dulling to a mere dream, and in it’s place… cold. The cold unyielding stone against his back, cold damp air swirling through the room from a gaping hole in the wall, cold cloying scent of the sea. All of it cold, except one thing… A warm gentle pressure on his chest. Someone’s hand, and the familiar charge of magic in the air surrounding him. Magic that felt like… He opened his eyes.

 

The world swam in front of him for a bit, hard to make out the shapes. Supreme Leader was looking down at him, the last words of an incantation fading from his lips. He had a wide band of bandages slung around his face, covering his right eye. The remaining eye had a dull and stony cast to it. He looked... troubled, more troubled than Jirix had seen him for a long time.

 

“Supreme Leader…” Jirix’s voice felt like gravel and the words came out as more of a croak than anything. Supreme Leader withdrew his hand from Jirix’s chest as the last faint resonance of the spell dissipated, moving away to give him room. Somehow the loss of the contact made the cold seem to deepen. He shivered, pushing himself to his feet. Too fast-- the room spun around him, the nauseating effect of it compounded by the flickering light from the rift visible through the shattered wall.

 

Silence stretched on, becoming almost unbearable. Then, finally, “Lord Xykon’s phylactery has been lost.” Supreme leader’s voice was curt and bloodless, a bitter emphasis on the Lord, something he had never called the lich when it was only the two of them.

 

“We’ll be searching every inch of the subterranean waterworks. Pull everyone not engaged in absolutely essential tasks, this is of the highest priority. Draw up a list of available personnel, and a proposed roster of search teams by tomorrow. We’ll meet in the morning to discuss your proposals and decide on a search rotation.”

 

Then, he brushed past Jirix, disappearing down the tower stairwell in a flash of crimson cloth. Jirix stood looking after him for a long time, watching the empty doorway and his own flickering shadow cast by the pulsing light of the rift.

 

Shaking himself out of the reverie, he strode towards the door, mounting the steps down towards his own, smaller, study. He didn’t have time to stand around in a daze. Supreme Leader had given him a job to do. He just needed to perform his duties, and perhaps his feeling of foreboding would fade by the morning.

 

It did not.

 

 

  
  



End file.
